


Midas Touch

by Violette_Pleasures



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Boys Kissing, Car Sex, Falling In Love, I Love You, Kissing, Love Bites, Love Stories, M/M, Making Love, Sex in a Car, in the back seat, its really prose-y y'all, well more in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 21:12:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13039494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Pleasures/pseuds/Violette_Pleasures
Summary: Tony and Peter share a rare moment alone in the back seat of Tony's car and Peter thinks on what it is to be loved by Tony Stark





	Midas Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenSorceress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenSorceress/gifts).



> This started as a writing exercise with a prompt from thegreensorceress. The exercise was to go over the top with prose and allusions and detail and that's exactly what I did! And I ended up making something I'm really proud of ;w; Idk how well this stuff is accepted as I haven't really come across anything like it, so comments and thoughts would be greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Without further ado...

The night time of the city is whirring around him, even squeezed into the backseat of a luxury towncar, expensive leather sticking to and daubing a new perfume into his skin, he can hear the cars sliding by with their red and white light trails, hear people walking down the streets just a few feet away and it makes his pulse race knowing how close their world is to the rest of the world. His breath catches with the quiet slither of a silk tie uncoiling from around a rich egyptian cotton button down, can’t tear his eyes away from the crimson tail flicking and disappearing underneath the tunnel of the collar before being tossed without a care to the floorboard. The imperceptible pop pop pop of each individual button coming undone is driving him crazy, like fingers tapping impatiently against a desk in his mind. 

The way the older man smirks, his full lips curling upwards, deepening the smile lines at the edges of his impeccably trimmed goatee, lets him know. He knows how badly he needs, craves this. The gentle glide of calloused fingers, drenched in the smell of grease and metal, across his stomach lets him know he needs it just as badly, is just better at keeping it secret.

Rain is pattering a soft onto the rear window, splintering into a thousand tiny rivers and streams rushing down the glass. Their lips meet in a kiss and it evokes the sensation of biting into a sun-warmed plum, bitter flesh encasing succulent sweetness with the roughness of devotion a topnote to the heady basenote of adoration in their pressing of lips. His fingers run up through the shorn-short hairs at the nape of the older man’s neck, slowly coursing a trail to longer strands that he fists, eliciting a groan that makes his stomach quiver. He holds that mouth, so full of poetry and private words spoken just for him that are verbatim the words hidden behind his ribs, right where he wants it, pressed so close air is becoming scarce.

“Tony…I need…” He starts, knows the words are pointless, because no matter how badly his body aches, Tony will only prolong the teasing, turning the ache into an exquisite torture that has his toes curling when bare chests press against each other. Pearl perfect teeth attach themselves to his neck, leaving behind a new necklace made of watercolor bruises and impressions of the mouth he craves down to his  core.

“What do you need, Peter?” The cadence of Tony’s voice is a clear product of his upbringing, no matter how much he may deny it, its the honeyed purr of a man who knows the worth of his silver spoon tongue. He uses it like a  weapon against Peter, can tell he likes it when “Peter” falls just right from his lips, takes pleasure in how it makes him come to a complete stop no matter where they are. And Peter knows he’s helpless against it, doesn’t even try to resist it anymore, just lets it draw him close and closer, the weaving, hypnotic lilt lulling him into the state of open vulnerability Tony loves to delve his hands into and slowly pull him apart.

“You…something more…please, its been so long…” Peter whines frustrated, tries not to, but the savoring every bite pace Tony is moving at is going to kill him.

“Don’t worry, baby…I’m right here.” Tony’s dulcet voice is an attempt to soothe, to leave a lingering trace of sugar on Peter’s tongue when they kiss open mouthed and wet. Clothes rustle-hush like bird wings as they’re removed and cast aside. Cars pull to stop at the intersection outside the alley, break lights illuminating their bodies in scarlet just as Tony hovers over him, panting and pushing into his body. 

Peter moans, tries to nip it in the bud with a stifling kiss, but Tony gently sucks his tongue to keep his mouth open, wants those sounds to come into a full bloom around them. They move their bodies as best they can in the confined space, Tony expertly rolling his hips and Peter meets each thrusts. This is what Peter craves, the fullness that felt like ownership and love, the way Tony’s chocolate toned eyes looked at him like he was something fragile and precious, something to protect. 

He looks up into those eyes now, arms wrapping loose vines around the older man’s neck, and Tony is giving him that look, letting himself be open for Peter to reach in and take hold of whatever he may. And Peter took carefully, one thing at a time, first Tony’s time, then his attention, then the space between his lips and Peter’s and finally the small empty hollow between Tony’s heart and lungs where Peter became the thing he loves most and can’t breathe without. He’d made a home of Tony Stark and Tony had gently carried him across the threshold. 

“So lovely, my beautiful boy.” A kiss is applied with such tenderness and devotion to his forehead, that, in his hypersensitive state, nearly makes Peter want to cry. He absorbs every word, takes it as truth, soaks up all the attention and intimacy Tony graces him with because he’s starving for it. No one else could ever satisfy him the way Tony does. He knows this man has already ruined him in the best of ways.

“Tony…love you…” Peter holds his lover’s gaze, trying to convey the kaleidoscope of emotions rushing through him since words are a near impossibility now.

“I love you too, Peter.” Those words are Tony’s Samson and Delilah, although the roles of who cut the hair and who became weak are interchangeable between them. 

Peter was his Delilah when he’d said it first and Tony was his Samson when he’d said them back.

Tony was his Delilah the first time he said it right before he kissed him and Peter became his willing Samson.  

“Tony…I can’t–” He felt like he was unraveling, coming apart at the seams and his body was restitching itself back together in a way that left an empty hole in his new tapestry that only Tony could mend.

“Getting close?” Tony asks with a smile to his smooth voice when Peter lets out a wanton moan just for his ears. He redoubles his efforts, pulling out further, pushing in deeper, overwhelming the boy beneath him with the opulence of his love for him. 

“So close, please…” Peter begged, breathing his request against Tony’s lips, orgasm taunting him just out of arm’s reach. He cries out into the open air, not caring who hears, as a large hand encompasses his member, giving him that one last nudge into completion. 

“Fuck, Peter…” The coarse grit of Tony’s voice when he spoke made Peter’s name feel like another obscenity. Tony’s strong arms laced themselves around the boy and Peter clung to sturdy shoulders, leaving painful bruises the exact shape of his small fingers. “Come for me, baby…”

Peter breaks, absolutely shatters, coming apart beneath Tony and its beautiful and overwhelming in its intensity. He holds on tighter to the older man as his hips continue to move against his, allows his legs to be lifted and pressed further into his chest so Tony can get as deep as needs. He doesn’t allow his shivering body to even begin to go lax until he feels Tony pulsing inside him, reaching his own climax.

The windows are fogged, softening the lights pouring in from outside as they lay together panting and catching their breath. The air inside is hazy summer day warm, cocooning them both from the frigid early winter just beyond the doors. They’re smiling softly and Tony’s laugh is champagne bubbles effervescent against Peter’s skin. Peter buries his face in the crook of Tony’s neck, breathing in the comforting scent of coffee and  Italian cologne. 

“I promise I won’t make you wait this long again.” Its a promise that Peter has to take at face value, knowing Tony may not be able to keep it being as busy as he is, but the sentiment is there and for Peter, that’s enough. 

“I’ve missed you.” Peter murmurs devoutly against Tony’s pulse point earning him a husky sigh laced with loving possession and sinewy arms wrapping more tightly about him. He’d fallen beneath the older man’s Midas touch and knew what it meant, what it felt like to be as precious as gold to Tony Stark and nothing could compare.


End file.
